by Joanna Orwin
The dawn light was already filtering between the buildings, softening the night shadows as the moon retreated. Taka followed the spear carrier numbly through the dim streets. Outside Taka’s room, Thorssen stopped, then turned slowly to face him.
‘None of my business, but you’re treading on dangerous ground. Even your fancy footwork wouldn’t be enough to save you if the Mister found out.’
‘She sent for me,’ Taka said, his voice listless. ‘What else was I meant to do? She’s the Mister’s daughter.’
‘She’s that and all,’ agreed Thorssen grimly. ‘You’d do well to remember it.’
Taka pulled himself together. ‘You were outside her door all the time. You know nothing happened. We talked, that’s all.’ He heard his regret.
Thorssen didn’t notice. ‘Talked treason, from what I heard.’
‘Treason?’ Taka frowned uneasily. ‘I barely said a word. You heard what it was about, surely — she thinks the Mister’s going to marry her off to Choi Yu.’
The spear carrier stood there a moment, his arms folded across his broad chest, feet planted wide, giving him a considering look. ‘As I said, none of my business.’ Then he went on, ‘But, then again, I kind of like you outsiders for some god-forsaken reason.’ He became almost garrulous, his words rambling as though he was thinking aloud. ‘Maybe I like that you had the courage to cross the ocean. My ancestor was a seaman, see, came here from across that ocean before the Battle of the Gods. Sometimes I think I’d like to venture out there, like you did.’
‘Why don’t you — any of you — venture outside the harbour?’ Taka welcomed the change of subject.
‘Nothing to be gained that we haven’t already got, right here in Sanctuary,’ said Thorssen gruffly. ‘Bit of paradise, isn’t it? A man would be a fool to think twice about leaving, risking the open ocean for no good purpose.’ He shook his head impatiently. ‘How did we get onto this?’
When Taka had the sense to say nothing, the spear carrier gnawed at his lip, then sighed heavily. ‘I’m warning you, like. For your own sake. The Mistress. Take it from me, you don’t want to get involved. It’d be dangerous, specially if you’re right about Choi Yu. If she had to, she’d sacrifice you without pausing for breath.’
‘Thanks for the warning, but I’ll take my chances,’ said Taka. He managed to keep his voice light. This was just a repeat of the ignorant rubbish spread by all the spear carriers. He nodded, then turned into his room, where he stood listening until he heard Thorssen’s footsteps pad away.
His mood lightened unexpectedly. What had happened altered everything: Cleo had reached out to him. He couldn’t suppress a sudden surge of joy. What had been mere lust and longing had changed into something deeper, Something truer, Something he’d never experienced before. Thorssen was right that he was in danger — in danger of falling in love with the Mister’s daughter.
Choi Yu’s visit extended for another two days, and Taka was ordered to perform both nights. Cleo was present each time, and he was relieved that she seemed less distressed. By the last night of the visit, she’d regained her normal arrogant composure, and he felt a pang of regret that she’d clearly won her father over. She was unlikely to seek his moral support again. He took care to do his best, wanting both to please her and avoid letting the Mister down again in front of Choi Yu.
At the end of his last performance, both leaders applauded his dancing vigorously, and Choi Yu beckoned him over. At close quarters, the man seemed affable and handsome, his smooth ochre skin stretched tightly over the high cheekbones, his black eyes creased with good humour.
Choi Yu handed Taka a small but weighty parcel and nodded vigorously. ‘For you, for you.’ His voice was heavily accented, but his words were clear enough. ‘Open. Open.’
Taka bowed, then opened the parcel. It contained a long string of fire-jewels, each the size of a small bird’s egg, glowing scarlet and amber in the light thrown by the bright flames that fanned from the metal columns behind the dais. He looked up at the Choi leader, startled to be given such a gift and unsure how to respond.
‘You wear.’ Choi Yu beamed at him.
Although Taka wasn’t happy about accepting something so closely related to the fire-goddess, he had no choice. Before he could react, the Mister’s daughter exclaimed impatiently, then snatched the necklace, thrust it over his head and arranged its loops to fall neatly on his bare chest. He didn’t dare raise his head to meet her gaze. The brush of her fingers burnt him even before he felt the heat of the stones. He resisted the urge to lift the necklace away from his tingling skin.
The Mister, looking more self-satisfied than usual, cleared his throat and waited until everyone’s attention had returned to him. ‘We have ordered the canoe race to take place tomorrow so our esteemed guest can enjoy the spectacle. Dancer boy, we give you permission to rejoin your companions in the morning and take your place in their crew.’
When Taka stammered his thanks, the Mister waved him away impatiently. He bowed again and left the gathering place. As he passed the steaming pool at its entrance, the mournful music swelled in a sequence of several long notes then faded away, becoming no more than a sighing song in the background. He felt the weight of the necklace around his neck and a shiver ran down his spine. Was the fire-goddess claiming him as her own?
Unable to sleep, Taka tossed and turned on his cot. Every time he opened his eyes, he could see the gleam of the fire-jewels in the alcove shelf beside his bed, the colours dull in the waning moonlight. The hours crept by, and he thought morning would never arrive.
It was still some time before dawn when Thorssen came to fetch him. His face expressionless, his voice neutral, the spear carrier said, ‘The Mistress has sent for you.’
Taka stumbled to his feet and dressed, his fingers automatically performing the necessary actions. At the last moment, after he’d secured his waist belt with its hidden pouch, he took the fire-jewel necklace and placed it around his neck. Thorssen watched him without saying a word, though Taka thought his eyes flashed in recognition.
As Taka followed the spear carrier through the winding streets, anticipation replaced the anxiety that had held him in its grip. He had another chance to win Cleo over. He should stop worrying about what might lie ahead. His destiny was in the hands of the gods, whether his own or those of this island. Even as he thought this, the mountain rumbled softly and he felt the ground roll momentarily under his feet. He heard Thorssen mutter an expletive and looked up towards the twin summits, just visible above the roofline of the buildings, a silhouette against the still-dark sky.
The night was clear and cool, and the swags of stars blazed vivid silver, unimpeded by any cloud. Even the cap of vapour had gone from the mountain, where great fountains of crimson sparks arched high above the active summit. As Taka watched in awe, festoons of sparks fell from the sky to encircle the higher slopes of the mountain with its own necklace of fire. His hand strayed to the fire-jewels, then he clutched the shapes of his grandmother’s amulets and said the prayer to Tanga under his breath.
And then Thorssen was thrusting him through the mat-covered doorway, telling him gruffly not to dally long, that dawn was on its way. Taka scarcely registered his words. Cleo was reclining on the sleeping bench. Her head propped on her hand, she watched him as he hesitated in the entrance. Her simple tunic was fastened high on one shoulder, leaving the other one bare, its roundness gleaming in the torchlight. She was twining a long strand of hair around the fingers of her other hand. For a long moment that made Taka’s legs tremble, she watched him. He couldn’t make out her expression, but knew she wasn’t smiling.
At last she spoke, her voice more musk than honey. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Before Taka could move, she rose from the bench and came towards him. He stood helpless while she unfastened his waist belt and tossed it aside, then drew his tunic over his head. Each time her fingers brushed bare skin he quivered, as though scorched by the fire-goddess herself. Cleo touc
hed the strands of fire-jewels around his neck, one by one, then ran both her palms slowly down his chest and flat stomach. She smiled as his muscles involuntarily tightened, then rested her hands lightly on his narrow hips before taking him by the wrist and leading him to her bed. He waited, scarcely able to breathe, his heart drumming violently against his ribcage while she raised her arms and let her own unfastened tunic slip to her feet. She kicked the garment aside, then pulled him, unresisting, down onto the soft mats.
This time there was no talking. The fire-goddess’s daughter fitted her slender curves along the length of his body, then nuzzled his ear lobe, her moist breath hot in his ear. Tentatively at first, Taka traced the outline of her nose, her cheekbones, the firm line of her jaw, following each plane of her face where it was highlighted by the golden light of the single torch. Then, as her small, firm hands kneaded the lingering tension from the long muscles and sinews of his back, he let go all awareness of the room that enclosed them. The last of the cautious voices still murmuring in his head dwindled, then disappeared. He forgot all the warnings he’d been given about the Mister’s daughter.
Chapter 19
Midday and high tide. Two canoes lined up side by side under a bright sun, their crews standing knee-deep in the water, waiting for the signal. Every man, woman and child from Sanctuary were massed ten deep along the shore to watch the strangers take on their top paddlers. The Mara were clustered separately on the terrace above the beach, well beyond the Sanctuary crowds. The Mister was taking full advantage of the occasion to display his wealth and power, both to Choi Yu and everyone who lived around the harbour. The race was to be followed by a feast to which even the Mara were invited. Taka could see the Mister holding court on a specially built platform above the finish line further along the beach. He was imagining the sycophantic laughter of his retinue and Choi Yu as they hung on his every word. He could just identify Cleo, sitting as usual at her father’s feet, surrounded by officials who were no doubt paying her avid attention.
Despite the throngs swirling on the beach behind him, Taka was scarcely aware of the excited voices or the heat of the sun. He was struggling to focus. His body felt empty and light from lack of sleep, his mind filled with torch-lit images and sensations that now seemed more like the dreams of desire than the reality. Cleo had sent him away before dawn, and a silent and disapproving Thorssen had taken him back to his room. The Mister’s daughter said nothing about what would happen next, and he had no idea whether she would send for him again. The night had been everything he’d longed for, but now he felt flat and unsure of himself. The niggling thought that she might already have forgotten him hollowed his stomach, and he swallowed hard to ease a dry sourness in his mouth.
When Taka joined the other Travellers at the landing place, Kai fixed him with a searching look, but, to his relief, made no comment. Preparations for the race soon took over, and no one else noticed that he was a little distracted, though his lack of practice over the past few weeks caused some debate.
‘Kota’s been acting as stroke,’ said Matu. ‘Maybe he should continue?’
Taka nodded. ‘Whatever you think’s best — you’re all bound to have honed your skills beyond mine by now.’
Piko clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Someone with your superb co-ordination? That’s unlikely. We’re really happy to have you back.’
‘Adding your strength should give us a real chance,’ said Matu.
For a moment they were all silent, only too mindful of the importance of this race and the sure knowledge that their opponents were equally skilled and prepared. At that moment, the beating of drums started up, the crowd stilled expectantly, and the spear carriers acting as marshals told them to board their canoes. Taka’s heart began to thud.
‘Tanga will be with us,’ said Kota calmly. ‘We can only do our best.’
While a marshal steadied the stern of their canoe, Taka took the place immediately in front of Matu. It was strange not to be in the prow, but he was relieved to avoid the added responsibility. He kept his eyes on Piko immediately in front of him. Beside them, Dyer and his team held their paddles aloft and shouted a ritual challenge. When the Travellers responded in kind, a stir of excitement ran through the waiting crowd. A marshal standing at the water’s edge just in front of the canoes raised his arm. Taka sensed the tension in the neighbouring canoe, the paddlers poised and alert, every toned muscle and tendon straining towards action.
When at last the marshal dropped his arm, both crews dug their paddles into the water. They soon picked up speed, each team finding its own tempo as they headed down the harbour towards the distant turn-around point marked by an anchored canoe. Taka concentrated on Piko, matching the strength of his stroke. Matu’s rhythmic grunts immediately behind him reverberated in his own chest, ensuring he kept the timing.
Down the harbour they swept, neck and neck. Taka concentrated fiercely as his shoulder muscles started to burn. A faint roar reached him from the shore as the two canoes reached the turn-around point. Matu took them in a smooth curve round the anchored marker canoe, opting to maintain their tempo. Out of the corner of his eye. Taka saw Dyer’s canoe turn tightly inside them. For a brief moment, he thought Matu had misjudged, but when the canoes straightened on the homeward stretch, they were still neck and neck, their own craft even slightly ahead.
Matu urged the Travellers to dig deeper, paddle faster. The canoes raced headlong towards the finish. White water pulsed at both prows as they thrust their paddles into the water and the canoes surged forward. Sweat dripped from Taka’s hairline, stinging his eyes. Blood pounded in his ears. He tightened his grip on his paddle and ignored his protesting muscles.
The drummers started up again, matching their tempo to Dyer’s stroke rate. Ashore, the excited crowd started to chant: ‘Dyer! Dyer!’
Taka missed a beat as the drumming and the chant cut across his timing. At first he thought it was his mistake alone, then realized the others had also faltered. Matu shouted encouragement, his voice clear and unfazed against the roar of the crowd and the relentless drumming, and Taka concentrated grimly on responding. Matu switched to the other team’s stroke rate, and their canoe picked up pace once more.
On and on the two canoes sped, and Taka again focused on Piko’s glistening back, using the steady rise and fall of his shoulders to maintain the rhythm of his own stroke. He was acutely aware that, in the brief moment of hesitation, the rival paddlers had drawn ahead. From this angle, Taka could see the prow of their own canoe surging forward powerfully with every stroke, but Dyer’s crew maintained the advantage they’d gained with each corresponding surge. The Travellers weren’t gaining ground.
‘Dyer! Dyer!’
The crowd was beside itself with triumph, already celebrating the victory as the canoes swept towards the finish line. Dyer’s canoe edged further ahead. Taka choked back the sour bile rising in his throat. How could he have been so sure the Travellers would win when the odds were stacked against them, here in the fire-goddess’s territory? Hope fading, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced every last scrap of effort into his stroke. At the same time, he prayed silently to Tanga.
The roar of the crowd faded abruptly. A brief silence was broken only by the insistent beat of the drums. Then the chant was renewed, frantic now.
‘Dyer! Dyer!’
Taka’s eyes flew open. Matu upped the tempo. The Travellers began driving their canoe even harder. Matu upped the tempo yet again. Their paddles flashed impossibly fast, their stroke rate now twice that of Dyer’s team. Every sinew, every muscle screamed for respite, but Taka gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. His heart in his mouth, he bent his back into the work as the two canoes approached the finish line, a long rope held above the water between anchored canoes. The marshals on these canoes stood up, legs spread wide to maintain their balance. Their watchful tension signalled that perhaps the race was not yet over. Against all odds, the Travellers were gaining ground. But had they left it too late? Matu
steadfastly urged them onwards.
The two canoes reached the finish line side by side. The Travellers thrust their paddles into the water in one last desperate effort. Taka thought the two prows breasted the suspended rope together, not separated by even the intake of a single breath. It was hard to be sure, though, from his position at the stern of their canoe.
Matu slowed their tempo, lowering their stroke rate until the canoe glided safely to a stop. His voice hoarse from effort, he gave the welcome order to ship paddles. Taka collapsed forward, elbows braced on his knees as he fought to draw reluctant air into his straining lungs. Blackness spiralled in front of his eyes and his stomach churned. Hastily he leant over the side as his gorge rose and he vomited helplessly. He felt Matu’s hand steady on his back. When he recovered sufficiently to lift his head, he saw his companions sprawled in attitudes of exhaustion, chests still heaving, sweat pouring down their faces.
From across the water, over the disconcerted hum of the thwarted crowd, he heard Dyer say quietly, ‘I wouldn’t like to call that.’
Matu responded, his voice equally quiet. ‘Me, neither.’
For a long moment, the two rivals regarded each other steadily, then Matu turned to the other Travellers and gestured at their paddles. Without needing further prompting, they sat up and raised them high in a silent salute to their opponents. Dyer and his companions followed suit.
Ashore, the crowd at last erupted in wild applause. Neither crew acknowledged the belated accolade. Both canoes stayed rocking on the calm water beyond the officials in the anchored craft. Taka tried to empty his head of all thought as his body slowly expelled the buzz of adrenalin, the burn of over-extended muscle. But he couldn’t banish the awareness that their future had depended on these few, insane, moments of paddling a fragile canoe.
After they landed, Taka stumbled up the beach, his weary legs barely holding him up. All around him he could hear people arguing. Most favoured Dyer’s team, but a few were acknowledging that the Travellers might indeed have reached the line at the same time.